


trace your sigils on your skin

by Riana1



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, everyone takes their sigils so seriously this was the logical step, the gods are not silent, winter is here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riana1/pseuds/Riana1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You Westerosi are all the same. You sew some beast upon a scrap of silk, and suddenly you are all lions or dragons or eagles". 	</p><p> Well, Illyrio Mopatis was right on the money with that one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SecondStarOnTheLeft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/gifts).



Sansa wakes to a warm blanket over her naked body and the copper taste of old blood in her teeth.

Willas stands over the fire roasting the deer with the few apples he could coax out of the remains of the orchard (the gods laugh at us, to give such gifts now he said as the snow drifts buried the gardens).

Sansa tries not to wonder about the taste of lion's blood (mostly she wishes she could save them, motherfatherrobb- the gods laugh at her prayers to be silent and then give her /this/).


	2. Chapter 2

Arianne tells her later they feared for her sanity after her transformation- the wild laughter more than the lion skin (Trystane would not let them near her, a shield of sunlight blinding any who came close, Myrcella wonders if all metaphors are now truth in this new world and pulls at her golden hair, a truth everyone saw but father and me).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /Jon is the Starkest Stark ever no matter who his parents are/.

Sam lets the pieces fall into place with each beat of the black wings above his head- the prince, the stolen girl, and Jon. Then Ghost yips and runs in circles beneath the dragon, and in a flurry of blinding snow, Sam blinks to see a black wolf to match the white and doesn't know /what/ to think.


	4. Chapter 4

They worship her in the streets when she marches with her cousins pulling up the turnips in their trails, cabbages in every footstep. 

She holds the throne by her own right (the people tear every lion limb by limb in the city, except the one cub that naps by her feet with a garland of golden roses around his neck- he is not to be touch she says, and the people obey for she is maiden-mother-queen, oh glory to her name, oh praise to her passing.)


	5. Chapter 5

Marya does not question the gods, only sent out the household servants with as many bags of onions as they can hold to the small folk surrounding the keep. 

The ravens come, Gallowsgrey burning, the Trants hacked to death despite their new gifts, King Arstan crowned by fevered crowds bearing his gifts of wheat- Marya is no fool, their breaths might stink until spring, but no harm with come to a Seaworth this winter. 

No harm, no harm, she prays and looks to black sails on the horizon.


	6. Chapter 6

The men abandon Winterfell despite the raging blizzard outside when the Bastard begins to bleed and falls to the ground screaming as his skin flays off piece by piece until he lays as pink as a butchered deer in the center of the courtyard. 

Jeyne watches from the window until dark, cradling the gentle tentacles in the pool of water she called (she thinks) in that morn. 

The cries stop sometime after midnight, but Jeyne does not hear, the lap of the water lulls her to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Yohn wills an opening into the roof of the Eyrie (oh gods) and crawls out into the whistling wind towards the little lord, naked and grinning in a mess of feathers. 

The boy begins to babble at him, careless of his closeness to the edge as only a bird (a falcon his mind shouts) can be. 

Yohn makes soothing noises at boy, pulling him into his arms and back inside, removing the mockingbird feather from his hair.


	8. Chapter 8

Maester Melwys watches from the window as his nephew directed the small folk to the supplies sent by Roslin from Riverrun. 

Perwyn gets nothing but grateful looks from the people (his people now) and walks among them unafraid. 

Melwys snorts- no man would be foolish enough to attack a man declared innocent by the gods, any Frey left standing in flesh instead of a tower of stone was testament enough to the gods' favor, not that there were many left.


	9. Chapter 9

They are children, careless, untaught, and unwise to the consequences of their actions but so eager to please their mother. 

So Dany speaks and her children rise up joyous behind her to burn every enemy ship in her bay and not even singe a single one bearing her standard. 

Mother of Dragons, she will be and Dany soars into the sun with her children trailing behind.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite scene

Barristan offered his cloak to the newly naked Jorah, the enemy soldiers had fled in terror after Mormont started to sprout fur (the rest dropped all arms when the queen took to the skies in silver scales and instructed her children how to burn enemy ships). 

Jorah accepted the cloak and looked down to the wheat stalks shooting out around Barristan's broken sandal. 

Wordlessly, Jorah pulled out a wine jug under a corpse and the two men toasted the sky and burning sea before them.


	11. Chapter 11

Quentyn studies the shafts of sunlight that wrap around his fingers like wool on a spindle while Gerris madly tries to turn the water back into wine again. 

Cletus just stares out the window over the burning sea and the knowledge that all ways into the manse are warded curdles in his gut- they need to get back to Dorne. 

The dragon queen is a dragon, she will be fine, he thinks numbly.


	12. Chapter 12

Gendry does not fear the wolves on the supply runs. 

He takes the bags of food on his back and runs on four hooves into the snow (godtouched they whispered behind his back, Gendry doubts that but at least he knows why the Lannisters wanted to kill him now). He cover more ground in a day than four men in three even if he lingers in the clearing where the big wolf comes sometimes. 

She never changes into a girl, but Gendry hopes (and never fears the howls, they might be hers).


	13. Chapter 13

Garlan holds the letter to Highgarden while looking over the tender trees his wife sings into ripening in great hall of Brightwater. 

He has heard from everyone but Willas in Highgarden and he fears. 

Kings and cults have sprung up in every white covered stretch of Westeros and while the Reach held out best, there were actual Krakens in the waters of the Shield Islands- Garlan prayed sweet Sansa inherited her family sigil like his wife did.


	14. Chapter 14

Leyton watches Malora light up every street of Oldtown with ease, a sea of stars hoving above city and snow. 

Not even Baelor can match his sister for range and control of their new- ah talents. 

They are calling her Lady Light now, the servants tell him and Leyton can only feel pride no matter the fuss the maesters make.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For SolanumTuberosum who wanted the Manderlys,

Wyman looks from the beach as son and granddaughters slip into shifts and scales to play in the icy waters of the harbor. The cold does little to harm them now (though Leona frets and fidgets, yards of brilliant blue wool falling from her fingers as she fusses with the ragbags around her, Wyman wonders when she gets done with the servants' clothes if she will start on any passerby in the streets, their chambermaids already resemble cardinals in the snow, brilliant in red woolens that would be the envy of any southern lady.)

The gifts of the gods are abundant now. Any fool with eyes can see that, but as much as Wyman welcomes the ability to surge in the waters of White Harbor, fierce and fast as any knight on his steed, he does not thank the gods for that.

Wylla leaps out of the water and splashes her father, his laughter rings out like the bark of a seal.

Wymam musts at his eyes, not trusting the sudden wetness there. Thank the all gods, new and old, he has his son back and a clear path to tread. There are ravens to attend, and a city to see to, but it can wait. It can all wait.

Leona squawks in surprise as her goodfather attempts to waddle down to the beach before slamming down into the surf with brilliant green fins, ripping his fine wool trousers to pieces. She leaps to the edge of the water to collect as many pieces as she can while her family dives to the bottom of the harbor in a treasure hunting race.

Oh, bother, Leona sighs and begins to pull the bits of cloth into ragbag. What the world is coming to, hearttrees growing in the Snowy Sept, mermaid daughters, but she looks out over the waters and listens to the shouts of joy- thank you, thank you, she prays and takes comfort in knowing she will be heard.


	16. Chapter 16

The rumors run through the canals faster than a storm surge- a giant fish found in the waters off the Isle of Gods, no it was a giant wolf sopping wet heading towards the House of Black and White, no, you're daft only a child in a mess of fur and scales I saw the priest take the boy away....

A swift ship is chartered that day. The captain accepts the gold without a word (he makes the mistake of catching the gaze of the young girl as they board, he will not do so again for the entire voyage).

The ship leaves on the high tide, bearing straight across the narrow sea.

 

****

She doesn't look back. 

Only forwards, staring straight past the horizon of sea and sky, towards the winter bounded lands in the west, she wonders how long this peace will last, if the balm on her heart will blister again.

She lifts her hand and traces the phantom touch on her brow. It had to be real, they wouldn't let her go unless it was, it had to be real, it had to- the sea spray stings her eyes and the tears well up and do not stop.

It is time to go home, the words echo in her mind, and Arya Stark for the first time in years let herself cry. 

There is no God but death, she told someone long ago.

She still believes that.

(only now, she knows it wears her father's face and she does not fear anymore).


	17. Chapter 17

Meera sleeps, curled around Jojen like when they were children.

She wakes every few days to rise to the surface of the pool and breathe, pulling the gifts of rabbit left by water's edge into her maw and swallowing whole. Her mind is sluggish from scales and the cold, but she recognizes her brother sleep-swimming through the silt at the bottom of the pool and knows only contentment- they are safe, safe, safe....

(sleep till spring, you are safe, i promise, they promise by fire by ice)


	18. Chapter 18

The slavers come at dawn, slipping into the harbor like thieves with steel teeth bared. Much is spoken about in the aftermath, all claim to be near the healer's hut when the gigantic beast burst out, tawny and trembling with fury; the only one to be certain is the potter's youngest boy- his paw pushed me down into the sands and then clawed the raider who grabbed me, he protected me.

The remains of the slavers are given to the pit, the salvage of steel and gold divided among the village, and the elders come forth to tell the story of the twisted little man found half drown on the south shore, his healing, and finding him among the tracks of the great beast asleep, covered by fluttering butterflies.

He is a gift, they exclaimed and the village rejoices. 

Later, after much mimicry and rough translations, a common tongue is tentatively established between them and the questions come out: what is your name, where do you come from, what are you?

A lion it seems, fuck me sideways, couldn't the gods of tits and wine find me, a lion, a lion, a lion...

The elders leave the little man alone, giving him time for his tears and prayers, before sending some of the eager maidens to attend him. The healer raises her hand when the quarreling among the girls breaks out in pinches and pushes; you will not shame us, the old woman commands, Ty-ion suffers and will need time to heal, you will not add to his burden by bickering. 

The maidens quiet down, and the healer motions the eldest two in, placing the bowls of fermented fruit juice in their hands.

It will take time but he will heal, he is a gift from god to us, she tells them and lets them into the hut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion needs some happy times.


	19. Chapter 19

Edd is the one to find Sam's girl.

Gilly lies in the shadow of the Silent Tower singing lullabies to the two babes on her lap, a carpet of gillyflowers slowly spreading out from her over the frozen ground in an expanding puddle of pink, but it wasn't the flowers that brought Edd up short. After dragons, flowers were not exactly intimating but a sapling weirwood tree growing in time with the lullaby? 

Why did this happen to him, did the gods just like to torment poor Edd?

He would tell Mully and let the steward tell everyone. Edd could hide in the wormways. He looked again hesitatingly at the girl and squashes the impulse to get on his knees and beg for her pardon. The gods were quite vocal in their favor and Edd did not want to be in the room if the Red Woman tried to grab the abomin- Edd stomped on that thought and buried it for good measure. Gilly's son, Gilly's son, Edd wracked his brain and swore he would get all associations of abomination and Little Monster out by morning.

The gods were watching and Edd wasn't about to get turned into a tree because he insulted one of their girls. 

He backed away slowly letting the lullaby echo in his ears.


	20. Chapter 20

A sword in the mud.

A dozen beaten, bewildered Crows crawling out of the training yard on their hands and knees.

Grenn begins to laugh and wonders if the gods will gift him with prophecy because Sam the Slayer is now the gods honest truth.

Maybe he should try and calling himself Grenn the Greatly Endowed to see what happens.

 

(Maester Aemon tells him later it was only swelling caused by tick bites, but Grenn sleeps in the chapel for a week praying).


	21. Chapter 21

The shout dies in his mouth when his daughter leaps from the third story window and does not fall.

She slows. A gust of wind and snow pushes her back, an unexpected whirlwind cushioning her like a fount of white petticoats before she lands dainty as a deer. Then she is one. 

Stannis thinks he called out her name. He is sure of it, but his daughter does not him over the shouts of the children in the courtyard. A ragged mix of boys wrapped in furs and cloaks begin to babble in excitement- his own squire shouting over the din,"I told you, my lady was blessed!"

The deer began to pivot, leaping side to side, raising walls of wind and snow with every turn before twisting dead center in the courtyard. Shireen stands not as a deer but a bright red vixen. Stannis does not move as the courtyard begins to fill with a crowd of his men, wildings, and black brothers. The vixen runs in a loop and bright blue flowers appear in her wake and Stannis lets the crowd push him back. They hardly notice him.

He can still see his daughter, vixen- bright and deer-high as she dances in a shower of white and petal blue of her own making. The gossip hisses by him- 'godtouched..lived despite the gray obviously favored..an abundance of gifts..her father must be a king..' Stannis curls his hand on his sword tightly, his daughter had won him more favor from the wildings with her courtyard display than Stannis had in the weeks coming to the Wall.

The favor of the gods, Stannis grinds his teeth and tries not to let the memory of sea air and helplessness curdle his stomach. I would not have them so would not have me, Stannis straighten his back, they would have my daughter be a hunted creature, but they do nothing to me.

Stannis hesitates, recalling the ravens sent from the south: the disappearance of the lions save for the bastard boy-king and ones at Casterly Rock, the petrification of the Freys, and missives from the freed Winterfell. The late Lord Bolton's Frey wife gave birth to a girl and was left alone while her sire and bastard brother were invisibly butchered in the sight of dozens of witnesses. Jon Snow commanded the forms of a direwolf and bloody /dragon/ despite the sins of his birth and true father. 

They do nothing to me and Stannis tried not to wonder if the silence was a grace or garrotte, either way it did not matter. Stannis turned from the courtyard and marched to his rooms, he would do his duty regardless.


	22. Chapter 22

Sigorn retreated when the first volley hit the twisted oak. 

His enemy had rooted around him, but he would not let her take him with out a fight. The snowball pack loosely in his hand, Sigorn dove, flinging straight at the dark hair of his wife. Her surprised yelp rang in his ears. Victory at last. He moved towards his laughing bride and scooped her up against his bare chest.

The gods were good and just, he thought to give such a bounty to him. No child of any Thenn would need to fear the bite of winter again, the sun in winter warmed every breath no matter their blood relation to him. They were wrapped safe against the killing cold.

No better abundance could he imagine except the daring look of love in his sweet bride's eyes.

Sigorn pulled his laughing Alys in for a kiss, twisting her thin shift in his hands and let her pull them both to the soft blanket of white at their feet.


	23. Chapter 23

Melisandre lays in the soot.

She does not sleep, she does not eat, nothing, nothing but- the prayer skitters away from her and she forgets to exhale. Oh, my Lord, Melisandre feels her lungs burn and vision blacken, do you test me, my Lord, to prove my worth against these treacherous wonders, my Lord my Lord myLordmylordmylor-

Melisandre lays in the warmth.

She wakes to a roaring fire. Someone had come into her room and stoked the flames high, she pushes the wool blanket off. Someone had come in while she slept unawares and attended to her. Her followers wouldn't dare come in without her say, Lord Stannis and Lord Snow would have waken her, her enemies would- she stops.

On the floor lays a trench of white weirwood with fresh baked bread and a side of salt, a circle of gillyflowers surrounding it.

Melisandre thinks of the wilding girl with her namesake woven into her hair meeting her eyes calmly across the courtyard. A gift, a test, a torment: the smell of the fresh bread makes her mouth water and she reaches to pick up the roll.

She cradles the bread in her hand and prays.

Melisandre looks into the flames.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This killed me and I am not very happy with it but dang it I am finishing this thing.

Walda unbars the door uneasily.

Mariya sleeps like a good girl, hardly making any sound (Walda keeps the small hand mirror with her to check, holding it up to see the tiny pin-points of fog because her baby is so tiny, so quiet, slipped out of her so sudden in the silence of the chapel, Walda did not have time to scream, only gasp, and grasp the red- wet body close, and give thanks for the small, reedy sounds coming from her daughter).

Nothing had been the same since her lord husband dropped to the ground of the great hall screaming and started to peel (like a pink, bleeding potato her mind burbles) and Walda ran. She ran out the door and into the snow to see the Bastard fall and bleed like his sire. Oh gods, Walda thought, oh, the /gods/, and made a beeline for the still in tact chapel, barely having the presence of mind to snatch a sack of bread before baring the door shut from the inside.

That had been a week ago. A lifetime ago (for Mariya, her sweet little girl, oh gods, please).

Walda steps out, leaning on the wall and clutching her daughter in the clean linen of her petticoats.

The courtyard is clean and quiet.

She stumbles across, swinging to one wall to another until the heat of the inner hallway reaches her and she collapses against the wall. There is a grinding in the back of her head, like gravel under a wagon wheel, Walda wonders if it is hunger or the hum of the gods (it could only be the gods, oh, mercy, please). She tries to remember the words of the catechism the old septa stoutly tried to teach in vain at the Twins.

 

Mariya whimpers and Walda sobs only one word.

"Please."

The gods were merciful, Walda had done nothing, nothing (the swords came out, the screams started, she /did/ nothing) and Mariya was only a babe, barely born and blameless (oathbreaker's daughter, kingkiller's daughter, murderer's daughter-no please no-)

 

"So you have finally come out."

 

Only holding Mariya keeps Walda upright, sinking to her knees instead diving to the floor, her mouth gaping soundlessly. The girl stares at her calmly, dressed in white robes and grey furs, Walda barely croaks out, "Lady Stark plea-."

 

"Poole. My name is Jeyne Poole."

 

She continues, ignoring the squeak from Walda sitting on the floor. "My father served Lord Eddard Stark as steward for eight and ten years before the Lannisters butchered him. I was born in these halls, I was betrayed in these halls, but the gods are true, they heard my cries."

 

She stops, a dreamy smile drifting on her face, "I hear them and I am not afraid. Do you want to hear the gods, Lady Bolton?"

 

The stones in front of Walda begin to sink down in a collapsing pool of water and Walda crawls away, clutching Mariya so tight she begins to wail.

The girl frowns and steps forward, "The child of Roose Bolton-"

 

"NO, Mariya is mine, my daughter," Walda screams,"mine, you can't have her!"

 

The grinding in her head tumbles into an avalanche of-- Walda does not move until the weight of the heavy furs is draped across her shoulders and Jeyne kneels in front of her on the dry stone floor, tucking a corner of the cloak over a fussing Mariya. Her eyes were brown.  Big and brown and full of faith.

 

"Be welcomed to Winterfell, Lady Frey. Within these walls and at our table, I extend you and your daughter our hospitality and protection in the name of the old gods and the new."

 

There are shouts to the servants hovering in the wings, a flurry of activity descending on upon them both, but Walda reaches out a free hand to the Lady Jeyne, gripping her shoulder tightly. "A book, please, I-," Walda fumbles, "A book of the Seven if you please my lady. I need, I need to remember my prayers."

 

Lady Jeyne nods briefly and peace floods through Walda in a pool of warmth.

 

Mariya gurgles happily in her mother's arms.


End file.
